Hole in the sky
by irnan
Summary: Dean, come on. You're being a hypocrite again. It's OK for you but not for me? Please." - coda to Provenance


_Oh, use your common sense. T__here's a writer's strike on: if I were making money out of this I wouldn't be writing, would I?_

**Way too tense**

"I've never been so proud of you, Sammy. No, really. You sure you don't want to stick around and – "

"You're a hypocrite, you know that?" you interrupt, your thoughts jumping out before you – well, think – to stop him cracking any dirty jokes. Too early in the morning for those. You really hadn't meant to say anything, but there's no backing down now.

Dean looks over at you, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "Where the heck did that come from?"

But something in his tone of voice tells you he knows what you're talking about, just isn't prepared to admit it. Again. Since you got back from Stanford you've struggled with how closed-off Dean's become. He never did wear his heart on his sleeve, but he used to talk to you, at least. These days getting him to open up to you is nearly impossible.

Deep down you know that it's your own fault (oh, not entirely, you're not so conceited as to think that, but you sure as hell contributed), that you did this to him by leaving the way you did, by ignoring him for four long years. But down that path madness lies, and all you can do now is try and make it up to him, attempt to remind him how often and easily you talked before.

So you continue, keeping your voice light and teasing.

"All that about going out, having fun – that was all crap, right? I mean, you knew what this was about."

"Well… not at first."

"Didn't Dad ever tell you that eavesdropping on other people's conversations is rude?"

"He was too busy teaching me to pick locks," Dean shoots back. "So how does my overhearing your little talk with Sarah make me a hypocrite?"

"You tell me I shouldn't shut myself away, should let myself feel again, but you won't let yourself feel a thing for a girl." Dangerous ground, you know, but you really can't help it. The conversation seems to have taken on a life of its own – or perhaps that's your big mouth. But you couldn't stop anymore even if you wanted to.

He tensed up at your words, now he runs a hand over his face and clears his throat. "I never make the same mistake twice," he declares, trying to make light of it, to turn it into a joke.

Even he knows it's not a funny one.

"So it's a mistake for you but not for me?" Suddenly you're angry, furious even. Mistake? How in the hell can he think that?

"Sammy," Dean says wearily, but you're not having any of it, not now.

"Dean!" The exasperated-little-brother-voice works every time.

"What do you want me to say, Sam? Spout the textbook cases at you, you know, some crap about how I've been hurt enough for the next few centuries, how I saw what you and Dad went through, and then we can hug, and you'll tell me it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?"

"It's true! You think if I – I had a time machine, if I could call some kind of cosmic do-over, that I'd go back and not fall in love with Jess? Cause I wouldn't. I'd give anything to have been able to save her, but – "

"Well, you've changed your tune since Wednesday," Dean interrupts, harsh and caustic.

He's got a point there.

Then he sighs, sounding resigned and irritated both at once. "How did this go from me teasing you about your lip-lock with Sarah to you trying to psycho-analyse my love life?"

_Love_ life, eh? "You never did answer my question after Cape Girardeau," you tell him, shrugging. It's not an answer exactly, but Dean understands, he always does, and now it's his turn to shrug.

"It was a dumb one," he replies.

"Do I take that as a yes?" you ask, still unable to stop yourself pushing.

"Take it any God-dammed way you like, Sammy. You need to remember how to have fun, to relax. And I don't need to fall in love, not now, while you've got the shining, and Dad's chasin' round the country after the demon that killed Mom, and just because we got away from those Daevas once doesn't necessarily mean they'll never try again, you know. Right now, the only thing I need is lunch."

And with that he turns the Impala off the road into the parking lot of the diner-cum-gas-station that seems to have materialised out of thin air in front of the car with the sole purpose of providing an excuse to change the subject.

For a conversation you hadn't even meant to start, that actually went pretty well.


End file.
